Growing Into Myself
by KarieLuisaSaja
Summary: The famous Harry Potter has a wife who is hospital-ridden with a strange disease. How can Harry pay for her treatment, yet still support himself?
1. Chapter 1

Growing Into Myself

Chapter 1-The Beginning Of Misery

The cool morning breeze ruffled Harry's hair as he stood outside his house on Hantford Lane. Sighing, he turned to face the garden, once tended by loving hands. Now, the green was fading into a sickly brown. The loving hands had faded away.

Harry turned away. The sight of the garden was enough to make anyone look away with either sadness or disgust. It was simply a natural reaction.

The lights turned on in the neighbor's house, but he wasn't interested anymore. Turning around, Harry headed back to the porch, where he sat down to watch the sun rise.

The sky was full of soft lavenders and the perky oranges of daylight. Even the sunset was too much to bear. He headed back into the dreary house.

Sitting at the wooden table, Harry glared at the phone, whose ringing had only brought misfortune.

As though on cue, the phone began its hateful ringing.

Getting up against his will, Harry checked the caller ID. The hospital. Again. Where they trying to bill him again?

Furiously, Harry picked it up, and called, "Hi."

"This is St. Mungo's-"

"What do you want?" Harry interrupted.

"Umm…Right."

"WHAT!" Harry yelled into the receiver.

"Sorry, Sir. Is this Mr. Potter?"

"I said what do you want?"

"Look, Mr. Potter, can you come? Immediately?" The man on the other end of the phone said uncomfortably.

"Sure. Bye." He slammed the receiver on the hook.

Driving the car recklessly, Harry wondered how Muggles dealt with these things! Every day! Grumbling, Harry drove the car into a shopping center, and walked a quarter mile to St. Mungo's Hospital.

Inside, the witch at the direction counter greeted him monotonously. Harry nodded and waved, but he felt a pang of sympathy for her. He wondered if she had any family.

He went up to Floor 5, and waited outside Room 5B. Doctor Thompson came out minutes later.

"Good morning, Harry. I assume you got our call." He said politely.

"Yes Sir." Harry mumbled.

"You can see her now. She might have to go into surgery for..Well..You know." Doc walked away to tend to his next patient.

The door to Room 5B creaked open. Inside was the figure of a woman, and Harry sat down in a random chair. The lights were significantly dimmed, and Harry had to grope just find the bedside.

His heart felt like it was being wrenched out. He felt bad, so bad, for her.

And she would never know it.

Harry simply sat in the chair, reading his novel. But he wasn't concentrating on the words in the book, but the words spiraling through his head.

"Surgery…" Doc's voice said clearly. Harry wouldn't be able to afford much more treatment. After that, everything would go downhill.

She stirred, and gave a small moaning sound. Harry looked away. Who was he, coming here everyday, and yet he couldn't do anything?

How had he ever destroyed Voldemort with this horrifying attitude?

"_You didn't!" _A voice in his head shrieked itself shrilly.

How could he live up to his name when he couldn't even save that weak figure in the hospital bed?

Harry furiously fumbled into his bag and pulled out his wallet. He could go buy a soda, nothing that serious could happen in just 3 minutes. Harry decided reasonably.

Outside, Harry stopped by the vending machine. It clinked around when he dropped the Knut into it. It sloshed into the other coins.

A whirring hand siren that a surgeon was holding dashed past. Swearing silently, Harry sulked back to the fifth floor.

On the way back, he heard two old witches muttering.

"Did you hear?" One said. "Poor Harry Potter can't save his wife! It's such a pity that it's a case nobody else's' ever got! I feel real sad to think he saved us, but that we can't return the favor!"

The other nodded affirmatively.

Harry depressedly walked back to Room 5B.

But there was too much excitement way down the corridor to get anywhere near the room. Grumbling, Harry waited in the bubbly crowd.

"Didija hear?" One mother shrieked to another.

"No what?" The other called back.

"In the other end of the hall!" Mother #1 replied. But Harry didn't hear the rest.

He was running through the crowd, shoving his way to her room.

At Room 5R, Harry ran smack into, guess who, Doctor Thompson. "Harry! I was looking for you!" He grabbed the surprised Harry by the shoulders. "Hermione's in surgery, wait in the surgery's lobby!" Doc turned and ran. "Coming through! Doctor coming through!" You could hear him bellowing down the hall.

Harry stood leaning against the wall in shock, even after the crowd dispatched.

He had been too late. The famous Harry Potter. Too late.

All just because he wanted a soda.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2- I Promise I'm Trying 

Pacing around the lobby, Harry wondered drearily if the treatment would end out too costly. He was afraid to admit he was struggling financially.

At the wedding ceremony, he and Hermione had promised each other everything. To give until they couldn't give anymore. So why was Harry the only one giving?

The dying garden flashed through his mind. Hermione's loving hands had once tended to it, growing all sorts of food, Muggle style. After the disease got to her, Hermione had grown it less and less, until looking at it put pain in Harry's heart.

"Harry?" Doctor Thompson walked up to him, putting an end to his thoughts. "This surgery, the bill." He gestured for Harry to pay but Harry barely glanced at the bill before cringing. Almost a five hundred Galleons. Although this one was cheaper amongst the other bills littering the dinner table, it was still enough to pull him closer to bankruptcy.

"I can't keep this up. Paying. I'm barely supporting myself now, let alone all the bills I have to pay for Hermione. It's only a matter of time before I'm out." It was better Doc heard this now and got used to the idea.

"Look, Harry, I know her coma seems impossible to break through, but we'll figure it out."

Harry could feel his anger rising. "I've given you three years! Hurry up!"

Doc looked offended. "I know it's frustrating, but please, without us, the cells attacking the brain would have killed her instead of putting her in this coma."

"She could be dead for all I know! She hasn't spoken to me in three years! I've got me a Muggle job at the supermarket. My wage doesn't support the two of us!" Harry yelled.

"Harry, please be reasonable-" Harry froze at the Doc's words. Memories flooded back, the ones he had tried to keep away. Ron and Hermione flashed across his mind, Hermione lecturing him. Ron. It was hard enough to remember him.

His death had led to him pulling away from the wizarding world. It had taken Hermione and him ages to get over him, after he sacrificed himself to lead to Voldemort's defeat.

"Stop!" Harry yelled, running away from Doc and all the memories he brought back.

Neville, Seamus, Wood, the Weasley twins, hadn't they all deserted him? No one had contacted him since he had become this-this person!

Harry banged his fist on the stonewall outside of St. Mungo's. It was all too much to bear. Memories from Hogwarts only brought pain.

"Harry." A female voice behind him spoke. Spinning around, Harry found the person he had never expected to see again.

Ginny. "Hi. I suppose you've come to bill me too?"

"No. Actually, I've come to help." Harry looked up. How could Ron's younger sister help him? She only brought back memories of his sixth year, and that wasn't what he wanted to remember.

"How can you help?" Harry said curtly. Ginny patted his shoulder gingerly.

"Harry, look. I'm an actress in the Muggle world, and I want to offer you some help. I'm rich. And I-I want to help you pay for Hermione's treatments."

"I can't accept."

"Why?" Ginny asked, stunned.

"I'm not accepting your charity!"

"I'm not giving you charity! Hermione was my friend too!" Ginny yelled. "I think I knew a different Harry Potter. I'll be at the Burrow tonight if you need me."

As soon as Ginny was out of sight, Harry knew ticking her off wasn't the best thing. Maybe going to her house to talk wouldn't be so bad, but facing the whole Weasley family would hurt.

But his heart said to go.

Maybe there would be a way to patch up his sorry life after all.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3- Remember me?

Harry knew that his money was dwindling faster than he could replace it. A Muggle job at a supermarket could barely pay for his own needs, let alone the insane prices that the hospital charged.

But Harry knew he could never stoop to accepting charity. It would be an all new low that Harry had scratched the surface of yet. But maybe Ginny hadn't been giving charity. After all, she was an actress, and she had made the offer to Harry. Harry hadn't gone up to her begging for money. And she had been Hermione's friend.

But she hadn't spoken to Harry or Hermione since Ron had been killed by Voldemort. It had been such a stupid idea, to let him sacrifice himself. The Weasleys' probably cursed Harry's name day and night. Harry wouldn't blame them if they did, either.

Harry wondered if he would even be able to strike a conversation with a family he hadn't spoken to in over five years. Fred and George had started their joke shop after all, and Percy, Harry had no idea what happened to him. Then there was Charlie, who was still working in Romania with dragons. If anything had changed over the past five years, Harry wouldn't know.

_How could Ginny even suggest that I just show up at the Burrow like I used to? _Harry thought, caught between being annoyed, and simply being afraid. He didn't want the Weasleys to hate him, but it was probably inevitable. Had Ron never befriended Harry, he would still be alive.

But, hope sparked in Harry's chest. Ginny had come to him. She had searched him out. Harry didn't meet up with her on the street. Ginny had found him.

So maybe, she wasn't full of the deep hatred Harry imagined she and her family would have. All these years Harry had isolated himself, well maybe they had all been wasted years.

He could still turn this sorry future around. Harry wanted more than anything to be able to talk or write with someone from the magical world. It would be the lifeline he had been searching for. The only problem was, Harry's ties to magic had been lessened ever since Ron had passed on. He was sure people would shun him, because he hadn't been able to save his best friend.

Well then, that made two people he couldn't save.

Harry had managed to save the world from Voldemort's wrath, so why were the people closest to Harry slipping away?

Shaking his head, Harry cleared those thoughts from his mind. He would go meet Ginny, and apologize to her family. While Harry had always been the boy with riches as a teenager, Hermione's illness had drained away at the once boundless fortune.

_It's kind of ironic_, Harry thought. _How the Weasleys had always been tight on finances, and now it's the opposite._

Harry almost smiled as he thought this. Maybe the future wasn't as bleak as he had made it out to be.

This last surgery had brought Harry twenty steps closer to the moment where he would have to declare bankruptcy and give up. But if Ginny was going to pay for some of the treatments, maybe Harry could take back those twenty steps, and more.

Harry was still standing by the stone wall outside the hospital. He couldn't do anything else for Hermione at the moment, and it was about noon. He could always go to the Burrow and try to patch up his once strong friendship with Ron's family.

Then it was settled. Taking one last look at the St. Mungo's, Harry turned and headed to his car. He wished he could take a broomstick to the Burrow. Harry hadn't flown in several years now, but he thought about it every so often. He could have gone for professional Quidditch, but instead Voldemort had seemed a bit more important, and skipping his seventh year at Hogwarts, Harry had gone to complete his destiny.

Harry eased the car up the driveway, parking it in the garage, almost knocking off the side mirror. Those got very annoying after a while.

Unlocking the door, Harry wondered what he would do if the Weasleys did not welcome him with open arms. There was always a chance that they did hate him.

But Harry was going to give it a shot. Instead of hiding every time there was a chance that something was against him, it was time he took action. No more cowering around. From here on out, it was the Harry Potter that everyone remembered.

Harry looked himself over skeptically in the mirror. His hair was as messy ever, and his clothes were rumpled and dirty. Harry couldn't just go as is. He looked like he hadn't washed his clothes in weeks.

So, Harry looked through what he owned, in hope of finding something presentable. He needed to make a positive first impression.

Eventually, Harry found clothes that didn't look as terrible as the rest. It would have to do.

The next step was to comb his hair, which would be difficult. For as long as he could remember, his hair had been disobedient. That still remained true.

Regardless of this, Harry managed to clean himself up enough within the next hour.

He sighed. Was he really going to go to the Burrow? Even after five years' worth of rifts separated Harry and the Weasleys?

Getting back into the car, Harry revved the engine, backing out of the garage. He couldn't live up to his name without being able to visit his late friend's family.

Harry kept telling himself that it would turn out alright. He needed the motive right now.

But, in the back of his mind, he had other thoughts. Would it really be alright?

_A/N: Wow, I haven't updated this in so long. Please R&R and I will update faster. Thanks to those who did review, though. KLS_


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